Pipe Cleaning
by Hikaruu Dark
Summary: *Drabble fic*  Dean wakes up a little less than himself and Sam goes out to pick up coffee.  Some implied Wincest


It was one of those mornings.  
The ones that came after those dreams. Those wonderful, _pleasing dreams_. The kind that made you glad for sleep, despite the time it wasted.  
The kind that woke you up... _Excited_.

"Damn." Dean grumbled, propping himself up with his elbows.  
He didn't have to sit up to see it. It was perfectly visible, greeting him with more wakefulness than his own conscious mind.  
After a sigh, he looked to the other bed, finding it empty.  
"Sam?"

"Just got out of the shower."  
The sound of confirming wet footsteps trailed out to the door.  
"I figured I'd go get coffee or something before we head out."

"Sounds good."  
Dean rolled onto his side while his brother left the bathroom and headed for the door.

"I'll be back soon. Try to be ready when I get back?"

"Yeah, sure."

"It'll only take like twenty minutes. Forty-five tops."

"Sam, just get out." Dean groaned, a little too earnestly.

Still, Sam nodded and pulled the door closed behind him.

Dean sat up, counting in his head.  
_Five, four, three, two-_

The car engine sounded and vanished soon after.

"Time to get to work."

It pulsed in what must have been expectancy, and oh Hell did it throb. The whole thing was frustrating in its own right. He'd have to be thoughtful in how he went about starting.  
Slow, holding back... A torture in it's own right. A maddening, but abundantly rewarding torture.  
But then again, that was half the fun.  
"Mmmmm..." He hummed, holding it for the first time through his shorts.  
It felt good, better than expected.  
'_Don't rush in, take your time. Can't do this head first._' A light laugh escaped his lips at that thought.

With the room and a bed to himself, the only thing left...  
Was what to think of. _Who_ to think of?

Not that Dean was one for fantasizing. He much preferred visual aid.  
And this was assuming he hadn't managed to get a girl- or two to bring him home for the night. Or, under very special circumstances, a girl to bring back to whatever motel he was crashing in.  
Aside from that, if he wasn't able to use Sam's laptop, it was almost always possible to catch something good on the television.  
But he had his moments of imagination every now and again. There were times that called for a subject with a personal connection, minor as that connection might be.

He closed his eyes for a moment and let his mind wander.

"...C...Cassie..." He exhaled.  
No. That wouldn't do. It would only serve to fill him to the pit with guilt and an eventual desire to see her.  
And they were far too many miles away to even consider making a visit without seeming more than a little irrationally suspicious.  
"Hmph."

'_Jo_?'  
He thought of the first time they met, the way she spoke to him. Yes, Jo was a good idea.  
It was well enough at the start, but after a few short tugs... He couldn't help but feel uneasy, anxious. Trying to push it to the side, he thought of the bar.  
He pictured them by empty counter and easing her up against it, smelling her neck and gripping her hips. She laughed and he liked that.  
And then another thought crept in, made its way up to the counter. It was an awkward thought. He couldn't help but feel the stare of her mother, no matter how hard he tried.  
"Ugh." He gave up.  
Nothing was worth that. The thought of even _possibly_ seeing her mother's face killed it.  
That horrible scowl. Or worse, a _smile_.

Sighing deeply, he retired his upper half against the bed head, still thinking.  
Still searching.

Someone had to be good enough, had to be able to get him going without inhibition.  
The tension in his waist was close to unbearable. Each breath went from his nose, to his chest, to his stomach and seemed to settle between his hips.  
Air filled him, creating a swelling sensation.  
'_Someone, anyone_.'  
Hell, at this point he'd even think of-  
"Sam..." He whispered once, absentmindedly.

His hips quivered with delight as he did so.  
He opened both eyes with shock, or was it pleasure?  
'_You gotta be kidding me._'  
But sure enough, as he thought it again... the second he envisioned his brother's face-  
"Ngh!"  
The heat of relief claimed his member.

He didn't stop.  
A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, many of which condemned the last three actions he had just taken. Others questioned the reality of it, urging him to wake up, convinced that he was dreaming, still asleep. And there in the shadows of his mind, were the whispers among the screams. Hidden behind the '_He's your brother._'s and '_Stop it._'s, perhaps the most enticing of his thoughts reminded him, '_No one will know._'

And that was true.  
No one would know, or see, or hear. This immorality would forever be trapped between the four crumbling walls of the room. Yes, it would be alright.  
And these walls had seen far worse, he was sure. Who knew how many women had given up their glory for bounty here? Or how many husbands had lost their faith to their wives by way of a paramour in this very space?  
And after all, he'd seen first hand the horrors of the world and knew that there were more he hadn't and possibly wouldn't ever encounter.  
If such great sin existed... Could this particular sin be so wrong?

He was farther in than he realized when he made another active thought of his brother.  
The anticipating throb in his pelvic region ceased, replaced by an involuntary upthrusting every few motions.  
"Sammy..."  
It became timed, rhythmic even.  
Each motion was a bass beat, leading the indulgent song forward. Every now and again his hips would jerk, crashing the cymbals of bliss within him.  
"S-Sam." He groaned, uttering the only lyric this piece required.

All else was silence.  
The bed wasn't creaking, the clock wasn't ticking- the very faucet his brother had used only minutes ago was soundlessly dripping into the sink.  
There was no purr of the car's engine dying or clinking of keys as the door lock flicked up.

"Mmmm...Sam." He sighed, feeling the intensity heighten.  
His brows furrowed, throat tightened, legs shuddered.  
"Sam... Sam...nng, Sammy." He whimpered, erupting onto the bed.  
His mind went white, blank with ecstasy. All except for the image of...

"Hey, I'm..."  
Sam quieted at the door upon sight of his brother.  
He smiled.  
"Still asleep, Dean?" He asked, setting a brown bag and coffee cup on a small table against the wall.

Dean twitched and opened his eyes.  
"Hmm?"  
He sat up and brought a hand to his head, wiping away the light sheen of sweat.  
"Back already?"

"Yeah, but I figured you wouldn't be ready. You looked like Hell when I left." He jeered.

"Mhm." Dean murmured, not listening.  
He pulled back the sheets, just enough to take a quick peek.  
And there it was, up with the sun.  
He smirked.  
"Damn."


End file.
